Should Have Seen It Coming
by Veratrum
Summary: Riku should have seen it coming, if he had thought to look. But he didn't, no one did, so now he drinks at a little bar in Portville and reflects on the past events.


Hey guys! This is just a short little story I cooked up, I just wanted to write it. I haven't been putting out many stories, but maybe a little angsty/creepy short fic would make up for it? Thanks to my friend for helping me come up with a name for the bar! And my other friend for trying, but not hard enough.

Summary: Riku should have seen it coming, if he had thought to look. But he didn't, no one did, so now he drinks at a little bar in Portville and reflects on the past events.

Rating: M, for really dark themes, language, the usual stuff.

This is not smut.

If you don't want to read about Roxas being a deranged maniac, close the tab and don't read this. (I hate portraying Roxas this way, but I had to do it :c )

* * *

Riku threw back another shot of Black Bush whiskey and slammed the glass back onto the counter, signaling to the bartender, Xigbar, to fill it back up again.

"You sure, buddy?" he asked, tipping some of the golden poison back into his shot glass. "I mean, I got no problem servin' ya drinks, but yeh've had a lot already."

Riku just tipped the next shot back, losing track of which number he was on. "Yeah, just keep them coming. I have nowhere to be, and I'm not piss drunk yet."

He sighed, curling his hand around the newly-emptied glass, and tried to forget why he came to The Dusty Mug in the first place. He should have seen it coming, but who the hell would have? Sweet, innocent little Roxas?

Xigbar filled his glass again and moved on to serve a few other patrons, but left the bottle on the counter next to Riku with a small wink. "So ye can serve yerself, laddie. I'll just charge for the whole bottle, yeh'll be drinkin' that much anyway," the Irish man said in his gruff voice. "You gonna be okay, kid?" Riku just nodded and pulled the bottle to him, staring at the thick liquid inside. It might be just enough to get him drunk.

Ignoring the shot glass, he gripped the short neck of the bottle and took a large swig, savoring the burn in the back of his throat, but remembering to hold his breath so he didn't choke on it. That was the trick to drinking whiskey; don't breathe when you're drinking it, or else you'll half kill yourself.

He slammed the bottle back onto the counter, remembering how Axel liked to drink. They had even gone to this same bar, having a good time, and once Axel met Roxas the little blonde had tagged along too. Riku remembered the way Roxas would wrap his arms sideways around Axel; always a bit too possessive, a bit too clingy. Riku remembered how Roxas' fingers would curl slightly, digging into the skin above Axel's hip, always a little too tight. But of course everyone shrugged it off and thought of it as cute.

Riku remembered the whiskey in his hands and took another long draft. He couldn't stop remembering how the little blonde always seemed to hate him, for no reason. He eventually figured it was jealousy, but he had no idea what Roxas could be jealous of.

He should have seen it coming.

By the time anyone even figured out how depressed and psychotic Roxas was, it was too late. Way too late. Especially for Axel.

Poor Axel.

Riku chugged at the now more than half-empty bottle, feeling the hazy promise a blissful night of doing nothing but being drunk, without remembering all the grisly details.

Walking down the hall to Axel's apartment, because he didn't answer when Riku called.

Opening the door to find Roxas, with a knife, stabbing Axel over and over.

Roxas screaming that if he couldn't have Axel all to himself, no one could.

Riku wrestling Roxas into a closet and locking him in with a chair under the doorknob.

Axel bleeding out before the paramedics and police could get there, and dying right there in front of Riku.

Roxas, at the trial, with a smile on his face admitting to killing Axel, no sign of remorse whatsoever.

Riku watching and making sure that Roxas was led into the mental institution that he would never leave, where he would be sedated every day and medicated, living the rest of his life as a zombie.

But now Riku was the only one with the guilt, the memories, and the pain. Everyone else had moved on after the funeral. Everyone else but Riku. He would probably never be over it. It was his phone call that had sent Roxas over the edge into a frenzy, boiling with jealousy.

He should have seen it coming. And now his best friend was dead.

Riku focused back in on the real world, tearing himself out of his own mind, and discovered that the whiskey was completely drained. There was a pleasant haze clouding his vision now, and he knew he could count on a beautiful night of being so drunk he wouldn't remember anything for hours. But he'd better get home before it hit.

He pulled out his wallet and slapped a fifty and a ten down on the counter and under the empty bottle, knowing Xigbar appreciated tips, and stood up, his butt numb from sitting on a hard barstool for hours. He couldn't wait to get home.

Riku fumbled to put his wallet back in his pocket and walked out of the bar, glad his house was only a short walk from The Dusty Mug. No doubt he'd be back tomorrow, when he would need to get drunk again, but he was alright for now.

He carefully climbed the stairs to his apartment building, trying not to fall over, and entered his apartment. He locked the door and stretched, plopping on the couch and turning on the TV.

Xigbar's last words to him replayed in his head like a broken record. "You gonna be okay, kid?" Riku just sank sideways onto his couch, passing from tipsy to flat-out drunk.

No, he would never be okay again.


End file.
